Damon's Last Entry
by Aya Diefair
Summary: Elena has made her choice, and it was not Damon. Her decision has destroyed him and he loses the will to live. Everyone he has ever loved or cared for he's manage to lose. This is Damon's last thoughts and moments written as he remembers a promise he was unable to keep. AU.
1. Prologue: Defeated

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! This is my first shot at writing a story based on the TV series **_**The Vampire Diaries**_**. I have a more traditional book-like writing style but I hope it doesn't distraught anyone from reading and enjoying it. Well, I will keep this simple. Enjoy!  
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**Disclaimer: All rights reserved to L. J. Smith as the creator, and Kevin Williamson and Julie Plec that brought The Vampire Diaries to life.**

**The only rights I reserve is my creative mind that threaded the story together with the help of an amazing storyline.**

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_'She finally made a decision...'_

Damon thought to himself grudgingly as he stumbled through the woods just outside of Mystic Falls, Virginia. Already drunk enough that it would kill a normal person, he grips yet another full bottle of his favorite whiskey in one hand and an ancient yet decoratively carved and designed stake in the other. Approaching the older area of the Mystic Falls graveyard, Damon stops briefly and leans against a tree, letting it support him. It was just past dusk, the fading light casted silhouettes of gravestones and old statues that stretched shadows upon the crisp grass. The look on his face was etched with agony and pain, mixing with other intense emotions as well. He didn't know what he felt anymore.

"It's Stefan...It's _always_ Stefan."

He muttered as he continued on, weaving through the graves as gracefully as one could for being so sloshed. Tripping here and there, he came to a stop at a very weathered and worn gravestone. Letting himself slowly crouch into a sitting position, he leaned against the tall statue of a stone angel behind him and crossed one leg, letting the other rest outstretched in front of him. His black stylish boots shimmered in the dying light, still has that brand new look. He rested his head gently on the cold stone, closing his ice blue eyes. He looked like he hasn't slept since the day he was turned, a sign he has been weeping, and enraged, and crushed.

'_It isn't worth the suffering anymore.'_

Taking in a slow breath and swallowing softly, he forced his eyes open and they met the grave in front of him. The name on it was well worn by age and weather, and the lack of care which made it very difficult to read the delicately written cursive of the one who laid to rest here. The only thing easily identifiable at first glance was the Salvatore family crest that centered the top part of the grave. He tore his gaze away quickly, not able to help but let out a pained chuckle as he let the stake fall out of his hand while he took a long drink from the bottle held in his other. Gently resting the bottle beside him, not wanting to spill a single drop, he pulls out an aged leather-bound journal from the inner pocket of his favorite leather jacket and a pen, opening the old journal to the last few empty pages left. Staring at the blank page for several minutes, gathering his thoughts it seemed, he let in a sharp breath and finally let the pen hit the page.

_'I couldn't keep my promise.'_


	2. It All Began

******Author's Note**: I would like to present the official first chapter to the story! **  
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June 28th, 2012

I loathe this day. Not just because it is bind to me by sheer luck but what is underneath that. If I could I would choose a different day to remind me how old I have been on this earth. I have been alive for 172 years today I guess, and every year that I choose to remember this day I always end up regretting it. It's easier to pretend it never happens. I suppose it shouldn't matter anymore. It was never about how old it made me, it was what else that lingers among this day that makes it so regrettable other than my existence. She would want me to remember at least one last time...

I will never forget the early morning of October 15th, 1845 when the silence in the house was disturbed by the cries of an infant. I was 5 years old then, and my room remained empty most of the night. Instead I sat just outside my parents' room, listening, waiting for when I was allowed to enter. No one knew I wasn't asleep, too anxious to meet my new baby brother or sister. As soon as I heard the sobs of the newborn subside I hesitated until the door came open itself it seemed and one of our maids ushered out with a handful of darkened garments and sheets, leaving the door ajar. I crept inside, quickly moving past my surprised father to be by my mother's side, where she held the new arrival.

The look on my mother's face was glowing with happiness. My father was trying to usher me back to bed by placing a hand on my shoulder and directing me back towards the door but my mother's angelic voice chimed in and told him it was alright. "Giuseppe, let him stay dear. He is doing no harm, just being curious." She looked at me the whole time, and I came closer to her bedside, where I carefully nestled myself onto the bed next to her, not tearing my eyes away from the now sleeping baby in her arms. "Damon, this is Iris, your new little sister." She said with a smile, watching me watch Iris. She would steal a glance to my father who stood behind me before taking a delicate hand and placing it on the back of my head, placing a light kiss on my temple.

"She looks just like you, mother." I recall saying to her, meeting my mother's eyes for a moment. They both looked so beautiful, if angels are real I'd imagine they looked just like my mother and sister. I cherished my little sister. I never wanted to leave her alone, always helping my mother and father with her. Help her learn how to walk; I always played with her, never wanting her to be tuckered out. As soon as Iris was able to walk she never stopped trying to chase me down. Her emerald green eyes shining full of life and her raven black curled hair bouncing around her face. You couldn't help but smile when you saw her. My father adored her, but who on this earth couldn't?

I experienced a form of déjà vu2 years later, once more in the fall. November 5th, 1847 in the midday I once more heard the cries of a newborn. This time I was in the garden with Iris, following her around while carrying her never ending growing bouquet of flowers she wanted to give to our mother. When we heard the crying I looked her way to watch her eyes light up curiously. For only being 2 years old she was sure smart and always so curious. She pointed back to our house and without any further adieu I swooped her up and headed back to the house to meet the new arrival.

Our mother gladly let us in, our father was holding the new infant this time, but my sister and I climbed into the bed with her. She gave us both a light hug. I smiled lightly why examining her face. She had been sick the last week or so, and it wore on her face. She never faltered a smile though, even with dulled light blue eyes that matched my own. My father let me hold my little brother, with the help from my mother of course. "This is Stefan, say hello Iris." She whispered as Iris crawled over to look over the baby. Taking a flower she still held in her hands and lightly brushing it against his small cheeks and nose, which little Stefan did not like at all.

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A splash of water hit the page then, just barely missing the fresh ink as Damon carefully wiped it off with a finger before taking his leathered arm and rubbing it across his face. Looking at his arm then, eyes stinging from the tears, he watched as the small drops of water slowly rolled down his sleeve. Smirking lightly while recollecting the last time he shed tears up until recently, how horrible it felt deep down, it made his heart ache. Shaking his head lightly to get the feeling out of his head while wiping his sleeve on his white button up shirt, he let his free hand feel around for his liquor while staring at the page he just filled. It had been a long while since he wrote his thoughts and feelings down. Being curious, he turned the page before it and there was a short paragraph written there with a date nearly 4 years ago to go with it. He didn't bother reading it as he let the page turn itself back to the one he left off writing in.

"Get a grip on yourself, Damon." He mockingly stated in a slightly high pitched tone to himself; seeming to imitate someone. "You're worth more to me than this." He continued before letting out a chuckle, gripping the bottle then and taking a swig of bourbon before resuming his dark laughter. "What a liar…Go to Hell, Elena." He muttered, recalling the last words exchanged between Elena and him. He stole a glance at the gravestone for a moment; the little light that was left when he arrived had long since passed, yet he stared at the etched stone with ease while rereading the words over and over. _'No...' _He tore his gaze away suddenly, feeling that stinging pain in his eyes again. Closing them quickly, taking slow collected breaths to calm and restore his mind before daring to let his eyes reopen; taking caution to avoid the sight of the stone. "Hold yourself together…Just a little longer." He whispered to himself as he gripped the pen to continue with his thoughts...


	3. How it Fell Apart

It didn't take long for my father to fall in love with Stefan; he gave so much attention to him, every waking moment he was with him and my sick mother...

Damon had hesitated, the pen hovering centimeters from the page. He did not want to continue recollecting this part of his life; he buried it all away for a very good reason. There was nothing but bad memories for a long time after his younger brother was born; purposely remembering them was the last thing he wanted to do. There was some good as well, there always is. He rested the pen on the page then, letting out a small sigh. It wasn't like anyone else was going to read this anyway.

...He would also spend a lot of time with Iris when she wasn't attached at the hip with me. His attention fell short when it came to me, however. He pushed me away the day my sister was born, and I never understood exactly why to this day. Maybe it is because I looked too much like my mother, too much of her personality in me and not enough of his. Even though he loved my mother to the ends of the earth it didn't matter that I was like her. I guess he expected his first born to be more like him from the start. Stefan, however, started to look more like our father as he got older, revealing that he shared the same eyes as Iris. Those emerald eyes...This didn't help matters much to my father's attachment to him, constantly stating that he will be a great success like he was.

My mother remained sick for a long time after his birth. None of the doctors had an answer as to what she had though. Several came and went, prescribing her medicines and teas, her room started developing odd smells of herbs. On her worst days I was not able to see her yet I still sat outside of my parents' room hoping the doors would open so I could enter. Most of the time the maids would usher me to my room instead, or my father would lead me away to my studies only to walk away muttering about how neglecting my studies was irresponsible. I didn't care; I just wanted to be with her.

Iris would frequently walk by her room and stop, peering curiously through the cracked open door before gazing at me in question. "Damey, mommy ok?" She would always ask me, and I would always respond; "Yes but she needs her rest right now." But I never knew if she really was ok myself. Whenever mother was feeling better everyone knew, she would be on the front porch watching Iris and I play why she tended to Stefan, reading us stories and even having dinner even if it meant we all sat around the bed with her. Her smile would return, and I would spend every second with her. My father would be nicer to me as well, which made me wish all the more that she would just stay healthy.

It was late, the night of Stefan's first birthday. I remember this day well because a young man came to the house and was greeted by my father. I hid in the shadows at the top of the stairs, about to go settle down just outside my mother's room. I could hear muffled voices from behind the closed doors of her room. Curiosity taking the best of me, I quickly yet quietly made my way to the doors and listened carefully to what they said. At this point my mother had taken a hard turn for the worst, and my father was beyond desperate. I assumed this arrival was a doctor, and from his accent he was foreign, proving what lengths my father has gone.

"Ah, Mrs. Salvatore..." I heard him say, his voice thick with a German accent. "Please describe your symptoms." As my mother spoke, her voice hoarse and very quiet, I wanted to walk away then; unable to stand hearing her like that, to know that she was suffering and I was not allowed to comfort her. My father shortly took over the list of symptoms; I wanted to know what the doctor thought of it all. He didn't say much, just an occasional "Uh-huh." and; "I see." He then simply told my father to discontinue the use of the other medications; that he will prescribe her something that will be sure to help. This brought me confidence and I am sure it brought my father some as well. I had to slip back to my room as I heard footsteps approach the doors.

We all were astonished at how well mother was doing the following day after the mysterious doctor visited. She was out of bed; her skin had the glow return to her, her eyes showed life once more. Iris and I were thrilled, not sure what the doctor had given her as he didn't leave anything behind but we didn't care, she looked better. She was very thin and physically weak, her sickness wore on her body harshly, yet she still could manage that smile. "It is good to see you up and around again, Mrs. Salvatore." All the maids would say as they passed. My father cautioned her though, wanting her to rest and continue to recover. I stayed with her all that evening, Iris with us as well until she fell asleep.

The doctor would come and go every few weeks, as my mother's health would falter once in a while, but my father was happy he was able to find someone to help her and so he never minded that this doctor only came after dark. Several years passed where we still had our mother. Stefan learned to walk and talk and Iris grew more beautiful each day. I would neglect my studies to play her games, which father never liked. I would listen to his conversations he always had with mother in the evenings on how I was irresponsible and uncaring, never thinking about my future. It was partially true, I didn't care, as long as I was with my siblings and my mother my life would be complete.

It was the eve of the first day of fall. My mother went out, gone into town with my father for some errands and to have a Council meeting. Of course he took Stefan for the first time; he wanted him to start learning about the Council. Stefan was only 6 but he insisted that he start attending to the dull and boring occasion. At least it wasn't me. I stayed home with Iris, helping her read one of her favorite books. When we heard a carriage arrive swiftly later in the night we went to greet our parents together. The maid that opened the door screamed at the sight as father entered supporting our feint mother. There was blood all over them and the maid quickly replaced a bloodied cloth with a fresh one and held it firmly against her neck where the source of blood came from. I stopped Iris before she started down the stairs, keeping her behind me so she couldn't see what was happening.

Stefan came straight upstairs to his room. His face was plastered with fear and confusion; he looked to me for answers why Iris questioned the screaming. I remained silent as a response to both of them, not sure if he knew what had happened but I knew the sight he witnessed from the blood traumatized him. I told him to take Iris to her room and to stay there. I descended the stairs then, taking caution to avoid the blood splatters on the floor as I approached the room where they put our mother. Not caring that I entered the room uninvited, yet no one seemed to notice.

"Mr. Salvatore...I will send for Dr. Vinzent immediately!" The maid said with a shaken voice. "Leave..." I heard my mother suddenly say. "Please...leave me." The maid dismissed herself then, rushing past me without a second glance. I continued to stand by the entryway, meeting my mother's dull gaze. "Mary, who did this to you...?" My father followed her gaze and spotted me, his anguished face turned firm and ridged in an instant. "Leave, son." He commanded, I didn't move. "No..."I simply stated, approaching her bedside instead of leaving; this angered him.

"I said...GET OUT! Leave this room immediately you sorry excuse for a son!" He roared, approaching me in a dominate manner, I couldn't help but flinch at his words and quickly retreated only to get the doors slammed in my face as soon as I was clear of the entryway. Tears glazed my eyes, but not of sadness, just anger. I waited outside but in the shadows so no one would see me, waiting for my father to leave the room but to also listen just like I always have.

"You shouldn't say such cruel things, Giuseppe. He is your son." My mother's angelic voice seemed to sing. "No, he's your son. You ended up spoiling him to the point that he will grow up expecting everything to just be handed to him now instead of having to work for it..." I tuned out then, not wanting to hear any more of that man's voice. I only remember hearing settle words from my mother here and there. She was defending me and also speaking of how she made the choice to die and to not change. I didn't understand what she meant. "...I love you, Mary. But if you change you are dead to me..." My father stated, the last sentence filled with an emotionless tone.

"I understand, Giuseppe. And I love you...I am sorry...But I have decided not to and I hope you believe me…" She responded lovingly. "Promise you won't be so harsh on Damon...please..." I heard silence, and if words were exchanged I was unable to hear them from my father. "Please, I want to see my children. I will not hurt them..." When I knew my father finally left for the stairs I heard my mother say my name, as if she knew all along I hid just outside her room. I entered in a surprised silence.

"Please mind your father, Damon. He is very upset with everything that has happened with me being ill. He loves you..." She explained as I closed the door behind me and approached her. Her wounds were tightly bounded by cloth around her neck and wrist. "He doesn't understand the bond you and I have." She held a hand out to me then and I gently took it, allowing her to pull me onto her bed to lie next to her as she ran her hand through my hair gently. "Are you going to die?" I asked, holding the lump in my throat at bay as I forced out the question, examining her as the candlelight showed me her skin no longer held the glow of the sun, but instead of death.


	4. A Slow Suffering

In an instant the journal was thrown at a rapid speed across the graveyard, hitting a gravestone hard not to terribly far away from Damon. Dropping his head into his hands, he struggled to control his emotions as his mind raced at the memories he re-awoken. This was a lot harder then he thought it would be, but he had to finish. If he didn't he feared it would haunt him forever even after his death. After several long minutes he blindly let a hand slide from his face into his inner pocket and pulled out a ring. Not even looking at it, he instead let his fingers feel over it, counting the outlines of the gems that rested on the band, stopping when he felt the larger gem at its center.

His opposite hand grabbed a handful of his own raven black hair, only to soon release it when he feared he was going to rip it out. He instead slammed the back of his head against the forgotten stone angel statue behind him, knocking him half silly. Grimacing at this, he finally let his eyes slowly open, gripping the ring hard while rubbing the back of his head. "It isn't going to get any easier..." He whispered. "…not for me anyway." He slowly rose and headed in the direction of where the journal went. Brushing off the small pieces of rubble that rested on it before picking it up, he then lightly poked the dent the journal made on the headstone from the impact.

"Sorry miss...Darla." He said with a slight lifeless chuckle before resuming his position back by the angel. Keeping the journal closed, he tapped the front of the leather cover with the pen, rotating from spinning it between his fingers to tapping it against his head. Smirking suddenly while shaking his head, wondering how on earth his brother was able to write in these things so fluidly and with little to no effort needed. He was good at letting his thoughts flow to the paper. He stole a glance at his phone; not even 10pm, he's been here a lot longer than it felt. He better hurry up to finish this last deed of his before midnight. Drinking down the last few drops of the brown liquid that sat beside him, he reluctantly continued to write below the crossed out word while gripping the ring firmly in his hand. These last few writings were going to be very tough to get out.

She just smiled lightly and pulled off her ring from her hand. "Listen to me, son. I want you to have this, cherish it always and give it to someone that you deeply love and care for in the future. Understand me?" She said this while she placed her ring in my hand. I only looked at it for a moment, trying hard to not let myself break down at her words; she had indirectly answered my question. She took my face in her hands and made me look at her then, noting the glazed look in my eyes.

"You need to stay strong, Damon. You need to stay strong for Iris and Stefan and especially yourself. Do this for me will you?" She paused a moment, gathering her thoughts with a slow intake of breath. Her thumb slowly brushed over my cheek, making me force myself not to shutter at how cold her touch was. "You're so handsome, just like your father." I couldn't help but shake my head at her words. "I don't want to be like him, I want to be like you, mother." The corners of her lips twitched at this, she held the smile back though. "Dear you are like me, but on the inside right here." She placed her hand over my heart; I could feel her cold skin against mine despite the cloth shirt between skin before she continued.

"You are a very smart, caring, and loving young man, Damon. You are also a good leader and have a sharp mind like your father does, and you use these traits very well together despite their vast differences. Don't let your father or anyone else tell you otherwise, but please also know that he does love you. Never forget this." She whispered, her eyes scared me, they were dulled, lifeless. I wanted to look away but I couldn't; I didn't want to disappoint her. Closing the hand that she placed her ring into, I gave her a slight nod. "I promise, for you mother." I managed to finally say.

She let me rest my head near hers, taking the opportunity to close my eyes to hold the tears at bay. I didn't move as I heard the doors open and my father's heavy footsteps approach with 2 pairs of other footsteps following. My brother and sister came with faces of worry and concern, asking questions and getting no answers as to why they were saying their goodbyes to her. My father had them leave shortly after; I could hear their cries from their rooms as I refused to leave with them. My father finally left in defeat of the words of my mother saying that it was alright for me to stay, giving him a reassuring smile. I stayed with her the rest of the night.

She died early that next morning...My father tore me from her side and threw me in my room, where I was joined by siblings and we mourned with silent tears together. He had her body removed immediately; no one knew where he had taken her. All traces of her were gone, as if she never existed. He never spoke about it for weeks after; no one entered the room where she died much less be anywhere near it. It was an easy room to avoid, being the last door at the end of the narrow hall under the stairs.

I hardly left the presence of Iris and Stefan, providing comfort to them when I received none myself. We hardly saw our father, either. The only way we knew he was still in the house was when a glass broke or when he released his bouts of anger toward a maid. One day I gathered up the courage to confront my father, I was needing answers I knew he wasn't going to provide. I had to try to get something out of him, something that could help my siblings move on from that horrible night.

"Father..." I said; "Stefan and Iris have been asking me when we could visit our mothers' grave." I chose my words very carefully, not sure how he would react. I made sure to emphasis my siblings names though, hoping to use his strong caring affection against him to start talking. He never looked at me from his paper covered desk, merely just setting his glasses down in front of him and placing a hand over his face. The room reeked of liquor, if I didn't know any better you probably could have got drunk in there by just breathing.

He stood suddenly; taking me by surprise I couldn't help but take a step back. He went to the window behind his chair, staring out at the mid-afternoon. "Yes...we are holding Mary's service tomorrow morning. It has taken a while to get her stone set up..." He muttered monotony, not acknowledging me even once with a glance. A long thick silence arose between us. I took in a quick breath, not sure what I was about to say would be truthful or not.

"I...I will try to live up to your expectations from now on, father." I managed to say without my voice cracking or much of a stutter. But once it came out I knew it wasn't going to be enough for him, and I knew I wasn't going to try as hard as I should. I promised my mother I would cooperate, but I didn't say I wouldn't do it half-assed. He dismissed me with a simple wave of his hand, I returned to my room to inform Iris and Stefan of the news.

The service was short, yet everyone from town was there in their best dressed surrounding the freshly placed statue of a stone angel. It reminded me too much of her I wasn't able to gaze upon it for long, staring at the base of it instead where the engraving rested at the angels' feet:

_Here lies_

_Mary Jade Salvatore_

_Born: May 27th, 1817_

_Died: September 22nd, 1854_

_A beloved wife and mother_

_May she rest in peace_

As people started to scatter and the base of the statue was littered with flowers, Stefan, Iris, and I remained behind; taking in the new quiet that lingered in the air. My sister's gentle voice startled me out of my daze. "The face looks just like her." She said simply, referring to the angels face before briefly following its permanent gaze. "She is looking towards our house. It will be like she is watching over us again, right Damon?" I only gave a slight nod, about to turn to leave before Stefan chimed in. "It doesn't say how she died..." His voice trailed off then, and I merely stared at him in disbelief as his face contorted with the memory of seeing her covered with so much blood, and having to be stuck in the carriage with her looking like that...

We managed to move on, yet the statement Stefan made that day kept bothering me from time to time. Our father acted different too, more so than he already had been. He was hardly home anymore, always at the Lockwood's mansion or when he was home he always had Mr. Lockwood or Mr. Gilbert in his office poking around with odd devices and talking about how they will aid in their hunt. Stefan was with him a lot during these private gatherings, claiming it was official Council business. He never let many details slip, and when he did it wasn't very useful or informative.

At least Iris remained oblivious to it all, being her usual carefree self by tending to the garden or wanting to play games with me. I was glad that she was able to accept everything the way she had. Her smile and laugh was a dead ringer of mothers, and there were times where I had to make sure she wasn't hiding somewhere, only to find my mind playing tricks on me with my memory of her. This never caused a rift between us though. In fact I grew even closer to my sister because of it.

I don't remember what day it was, but for some reason I recall at one point an evening where I confronted my father once more in a much similar fashion to the time when I told him I would 'live up to his expectations'. I couldn't wonder anymore on what killed our mother, and where she really did lay to rest. I had an intense feeling it wasn't at the feet of that statue.

"What killed our mother that night?" I asked bluntly, seeming to slightly startle my father as he looked away from his hoard of pages of work to bore his eyes into me before resuming. "She died of blood loss." He replied dryly, acting as if I was an idiot. I took a few steps forward to stand directly in front of him, only his desk separating us. "What attacked her?" I countered, letting my eyes wander over the pages on his desk before he started to organize them into piles. "She was attacked by a lone wolf that wandered into town. I was lucky enough to drive it off before she was drug into the woods..." He said all this with no emotion; it was scripted. He has explained this several times the exact same way before, yet somehow failed to mention it to his own children.

"I don't believe you..." I snapped back at him quickly before letting the words trail off, not sure what else to say and if I meant what I had said. I let my thoughts gather a moment before continuing to interrogate this man that I was supposed to call my father. "Where is she really buried? I know it isn't where that headstone stands." He had to give an honest answer to that at least. "I had her body cremated the morning after she passed." He paused to look at me then; I could tell he seemed a bit surprised at the question. "I did this at her request. But I assure you she is resting beneath the statue. Now…" He rose from his chair and started to walk around his desk, stopping right beside me as he stared me down. "…is there anything else you want to demand of me?" I simply just shook my head once.


	5. The White Wolf

A lot of animal attacks were reported the few years that followed, it seemed strange this would happen so suddenly since it was so quiet for so long prior to her death. The Council was hard at work to try and "eliminate the problem" or that was how they always worded it. I never saw any dead wolves whenever they did mention they had a significant kill however. It didn't add up quite right. It was the night before my 17th birthday that I spotted a wolf on the outskirts of the woods near our property, it was late and I was coming back from the graveyard. It was a full moon then and its eyes glowed with such intensity I was glad it was quite a distance away. I immediately continued to the house, knife in hand and eager to make sure Iris and Stefan weren't running around outside.

Checking in Stefan's room I saw that he was fast asleep which brought me comfort as I headed for Iris' room. I poked my head in just enough to be able to see her bed which was empty and untouched. Walking into the room then, I followed the breeze to the window where Iris sat gazing out of with it open. The light of the full moon illuminating her face had me awe struck. I took a seat at the bay window, eyes glued to her face, seeing her eyes shine as they reflected the moonlight. She didn't pay any attention to me as she examined the tree line in the distance.

I only tore my eyes from her when I heard the howling of a wolf, and another, until several were howling in unison. The sound of it sent chills down my spine, yet my sister had a smile on her face. The breeze picked up and blew her elbow length hair off her face as I spoke. "You should be in bed, Iris. It is pretty late." She didn't look away from the window as she finally acknowledged me, yet ignored my statement. "I saw you coming from the graveyard; did you see any wolves coming back?" She asked, looking in my direction for a moment before resuming her study of the land. Before she let me respond, she spoke again. "The moon makes everything look so eerie. The shadows are darker, and the colors of the land seem nonexistent. Everything is painted in white and grey in its light."

She pointed then, grabbing my arm with her other hand and tugging on the fabric of my shirt. "Look! Do you see him? He's as white as a ghost!" She exclaimed as a white outline of a wolf bolted adjacent to the tree line. What she said still haunts me to this day. "Wouldn't it be amazing to be able to raise one as a pet?" She asked, watching the wolf disappear in the woods as she daydreamed about it. I couldn't help but laugh at this while I went to close the window. "I think that would be a very unwise idea little sis." I got up then and grabbed her hand, she reluctantly followed me to her bed and climbed in and let me tuck her in. "Goodnight, Iris." I whispered before leaving a light kiss on her forehead.

I never thought she would take her words seriously in wanting a wolf as a pet…as soon as she thought I was out of earshot she snuck out of the house heading straight for where she saw that white wolf. I spotted her leaving while I was in my father's office sifting through his documents hoping to find something related to what he and the Council were hiding. Grabbing a nearby rifle just in case, I quickly ran after her. "Iris! Iris get back here!" I shouted, chasing after her. I heard her laughs and giggles as I caught up to her just before the tree line. "Iris are you crazy? If our father saw you running around out here this late he would be beyond furious at you." I hissed harshly at her, she only gave me that smile that melted my anger before looking around through the trees.

"Come on, Damon. Help me find that wolf! I just want to see him again." Iris asked while proceeding into the forest. I grabbed her arm then and made her turn to look at me. "Iris, please come back to the house with me?" I let my eyes do the begging as her emerald ones blazed with fury directed right at me, as mischievous smirk formed the corner of her mouth she quickly snatched her arm back and quickly ran into the forest. "Well, you'll just have to catch me then, Damon!" She said with a giggle, vanishing into the dark woods. Instant panic shot through me as a wolf decided to make it known by letting a howl break the quiet air. I quickly pursued her with the gun at ready.

"Iris, Iris where are you?" I would ask the silence, frantically looking in every direction where I heard something. It didn't take long before I heard a low growl, and taking a few more steps I froze, seeing my sister staring down the same wolf we saw earlier. Its golden eyes burned into her as it warned her by showing his teeth. She remained so still I was unsure if I should call out her name or not. I raised my gun taking aim right at the chest of the wolf, but my sister was in the way. I took a very calm breath and swallowed it hard, keeping my arms and hands steady. "Iris…" I whispered, "Very carefully back yourself to me, don't run…" It took her a long moment before she did what I said; my heart was pounding as the wolf remained unpredictable, shooting a glance toward me before returning it back on my sister.

A deep rippling snarl rose out of its throat then, startling Iris to falter, I could hear her frantic breathing, noticing one of her hands were held out towards the wolf as if she were attempting to pet the thing. "I just…want to touch him." I hear her whisper suddenly, without having much time to processes a reaction to what craziness got into my sisters head I saw her quickly jerk forward toward the wolf, triggering the wolf to jump forward teeth out and all. "Iris! Stop!" I yelled firing the gun before I could even think. All I remember after that is her scream and the wolf's pained yelping as the bullet connected with it. My memory phases out here, I only recall carrying Iris back to the house as fast as I could. Her left arm was badly torn up and her right shoulder was bleeding where the bullet had just scathed her by sheer luck….I don't know what I would have done if I actually shot her…

The next morning my father was furious at her, shouting some pretty harsh things that I had to step in and tell him to knock it off. Storming off in a rage, he left me alone with her as I shot an angered look her way that quickly shaped into concern. She looked ashamed of herself, showing that what our father said really got under her skin. Her bite wound was pretty bad, puncturing pretty deep and areas were torn from her jerking her arm with its teeth still imbedded. Her arm was tightly bound to hopefully slow the bleeding. "I'm so sorry, Damon. I didn't mean to be so stupid…I was being so stupid…" She said through fresh tears. I sat by her side then and pulled her in a hug. "Shh, it's okay. You'll be alright. The doctor will be here tonight…everything will be alright." I let her pull herself together while gently rocking her in my arms. When her sobs subsided she didn't move away from me, I had stopped rocking her then when I heard her whisper. "That wolf sure was beautiful up close…I'm sorry for putting you in danger, Damey." She hadn't called me that in a very long time.

"I saw it in a dream a few nights ago. It felt so real. The wolf was our mother and she wanted to lead me somewhere but I don't remember where…" She explained calmly, having the need to justify her actions the night before to me. "I don't know how I knew it was her but I just did…but last night…it was just like my dream. The full moon, the wind and the wolf that was the same white wolf as mother was…I thought maybe it would lead me to our mother so I could see her again. I don't know why I thought that…" Her voice was so quiet; she was holding back sobs as she spoke. "I miss her, Damon…I wish I was able to stay with her just a little longer…" I hushed her, not wanting to have her break down again. "It's okay, Iris…I miss her too. It is good to dream about her, it means that she is visiting you." I told her reassuringly; pleased with myself at how well I explained it. She gave me a weak smile before laying back down to rest.

I stayed with her most of the day despite her many suggestions that I go enjoy my birthday with someone else. I didn't mind though, not like there was much to do regardless but enjoy my time with my siblings; no one else my age particularly liked me anyway. When Dr. Vinzent came to tend to her bite he cautioned my father that she could develop a disease from the bite and that he will do what he could. My father trusted this man once before yet his behavior around him changed drastically. He was so on guard around him now and lingered just outside my sisters' room when he was tending to her. He acted so suspicious, it made me uneasy. Mr. Lockwood was there as well, eyeing me once in a while. I couldn't help but note his left shoulder area was tied up with a blood soaked bandage.

Late that night I heard a racket that woke me, they were several gunshots coming from the woods. I subconsciously went to my sister's room, thinking the sound would cause her terror from the traumatizing event but when I arrived she was nowhere to be seen. I went through the whole house and finding no one but a sleepy and confused Stefan I had him remain behind why I quickly headed for the woods. "Iris…what are you bloody thinking…" I asked myself as I approached the woods. I heard my name then being screamed in the distance, it was Iris' voice. I followed it hastily only to hear more gunfire and a wolf yelping. It was suddenly very quiet as I shouted for Iris. I don't know how long it was before I came across a dead white wolf and not even a few feet away my sister lying on the ground.

I dropped the gun I brought with me instantly, dropping to my knees at her side I carefully turned her over to see her throat torn into and covered in her own blood. Tears welled up then, only taking a quick glance to the white wolf nearby to see its face and left shoulder covered in blood as well before I pulled my sisters body closer to me, gently nudging her why removing the bloodied strands of hair that stuck to her forehead. "Iris…Iris please wake up…Iris…IRIS!" Dead…she was dead…I held her close to me, crying her name while trying to jostle her awake. I didn't even hear the person that approached me from behind until it was too late. The person said something but I can't remember what it was. Before I could investigate who it was a hard solid object met the back of my head and all went instantly dark.

She was dead…


	6. Epilogue: The Conclusion

Damon stared at the last few words he wrote before closing the journal and wrapped the leather strap around it. Rising before the grave and leaning the journal against the stone then picked up a stray rock nearby. Taking a knee he carefully started carving at the headstone, and as he finished he slid his hand over the name:

_Iris Jade Salvatore_

_Born: October 15th, 1845_

_Died: June 28__th__, 1857_

_May she be remembered_

_As the Angel she was_

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, sister…" Damon whispered to the headstone, letting his hand slowly slide off the grave, turning to meet the gaze of the angel he rested against. "Same for you, mother…I wound up doing the exact opposite of what I promised you." He paused to pick up the stake he brought with him. "I ended up hating and despising Dad, I practically killed my own sister by not being able to kill that damned wolf in the first place…and now I am pretty sure I hate my own brother because he has everything I cannot have or ever keep. After everything I've done for him…he's stabbed me in the back one to many times…" He muttered, walking around to face the front of the statue and placed the ring at the feet of the angel. He noticed it shimmered, the source coming from some invisible light. "You can have this back…"

He resumed his seat at the base of the statue then, poking the ground with the stake here and there. "I wish there was someone there to pull me back from the edge…but I think I have already fallen off it…" He couldn't help but smirk at that statement. He straightened his torso then, grabbing the stake by both hands and aiming the point at his chest where his heart resided. "I get hurt…I react by lashing out…and I become self-destructive…How ironic." He closed his eyes then. Hesitating, he has never considered suicide before until today. This must be how it is when someone falls from the edge one to many times, or gets shot down one to many times, or is tired of fighting for something he will never be able to have.

He quickly shook it off, taking in a long breath and slowly letting it out, his grip on the stake tightened and he was just a twitch away from driving it right though his chest before a voice graced his ears. "Oh come on, you really wouldn't kill yourself over my grave with mother behind you now would you, Damey? And with one of father's stakes no less…" Damon's ice blue eyes shot open suddenly, looking straight ahead of him. "…Iris?" He looked to the left of him, his gaze locking with a pair of long lost emerald green eyes. "Hello, dear brother."

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**Author's Note: And finally, the epilogue...The final piece to pull all the strings together. Did you think I was actually going to let that blue-eyed beauty kill himself?  
**

**Thank you all who reviewed, followed, and Favorited this story!  
**


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